


A Hideous Curse, After All

by lillpon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cursed!Killian, Cursed!Rumpelstiltskin, Friendship, Gen, foetp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 00:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillpon/pseuds/lillpon
Summary: Inspired by the new spoiler for Season 7 that teased cursed!Hook and cursed!Rumpelstiltskin... what if those two were friends?





	A Hideous Curse, After All

**Author's Note:**

> This may be rated T, but there are three f-bombs here, just so you know. Sorry.

It was raining again.

James wasn’t that surprised, however. It was Seattle, after all. But still it pissed him off that once again he was running late for his lunch with Eric, if only because of the way he’d tried to avoid getting splashed by the cars - and failing completely. When he finally reached the restaurant he was soaking wet, water getting even through his thick puffy coat, but his teeth weren’t clattering together even with the cold.

Eric always teased him about how he seemed so insensitive to cold weather.

He walked to their usual table, his sneakers leaving small pools wherever he stepped, and he blushed under the scrutiny of the new waitresses.

“Hey,” he said as he sat down, facing Eric.

“Good afternoon,” replied Eric, raising his eyes from his newspaper. His grey hair was tousled from the rain as well, but slightly more elegant than James’, as always. “Did you survive the storm?” He smiled.

James huffed. “I don’t know why I bother having an umbrella. I was pretty sure someone commanded the weather to kill me today.”

“Maybe you’re a little too dramatic?”

James sighed. “How are you today?”

Eric shrugged. “Nothing new. Someone had destroyed a copy of _Treasure Island_ they’d borrowed and didn’t want to pay for the damage.”

“Hmm, exciting,” James said ironically.

“You’re one to talk?” Eric said, taking a sip from his glass as he smiled.

“I think we both silently agreed long ago that we’ll always fight for the prize of the most boring story and we’ll always both win.”

“Hm, true. The waitress is coming, you’ll take your usual?”

“I can order for myself, man.”

“I’m just saying you should go to the bathroom and dry off a little.”

“You know me, Eric. I never catch colds.”

Eric raised his eyebrows. “Fine. Then I’ll go take a piss.”

“Geez, man, you’re a librarian! Language!” James said, pointing at the waitress. Eric smiled as he stood up, and James looked up at the waitress, who was sporting a very awkward smile.

He ordered his usual - fish and chips - and did not wait long until a young man sauntered to his table and sat on Eric’s chair.

* * *

“Hi,” the man said.

“Uh… hi,” James said, looking at him up and down. It wasn’t usual that strangers would talk to him. Unless of course, they wanted to make fun of the way he dressed.

“Um… I know this may sound a little weird, but I need to talk to you.”

James took a quick look around. The man didn’t seem that intimidating and the restaurant was almost full, but still he felt the hair at his back raise a little. “Okay…” he said eventually.

“Look… I need your help.”

James sighed as soon as those words were heard. He had enough memories of being picked at by bullies at school, and those words were how they would lure him in most times.

“Look, if it’s nothing important, man, I’ve got a-”

“Wow, you have an American accent. That’s weird,” the man said, looking up and down at James.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you won’t remember me, and I know you’ll have a hard time believing me… but we actually know each other. We used to be really close. And you… something has happened and I really need your help.”

James looked at him for a moment, exasperated. “Are you done?”

The man sighed. “No. My name is Henry Mills.”

They looked at each other for a moment, Henry looking at him as if he expected James to recognize the name.

“I’m not giving you my name, if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“I don’t need to. I already know your name… James Carlton.”

James shuddered and immediately looked back, trying to find any people he recognized - all the waitresses were new - to help him get out of this situation.

“Are you a stalker?”

“More like an old… friend.” Henry looked at him, almost hopefully.

“I’m sorry. Go find someone else to pick at.”

“I’m not picking at you! Look!” Henry dropped a book on the table and opened it. On the page there was an illustration of a man who was sitting inside an old Bug and wore a black shirt and leather jacket, a Sheriff’s badge… and had James’ face.

“What the…” James muttered. “What is this?”

“This is you,” Henry toned.

James looked back at the illustration. Apart from his hair, the resemblance was impeccable - it even had his cheek scar perfectly drawn.

“I can see that. Why is it me?” James asked. He turned his head towards the restrooms - there was no sign of Eric.

“Because this is real. This is you!”

“Okay, you’re really out of your fucking mind,” James said and turned to ask for the waitress.

“Bloody.”

Henry’s voice made him turn back. “What?” he said.

“You would have said I’m out of my bloody mind.”

James couldn’t believe his ears. Who was that man?

“I know I didn’t handle this well, but, take this,” Henry said, handing him over a folded page. “Look at it, rip it, burn it, throw it away, it’s a copy anyway. But I really need your help, so I would appreciate it if you looked at it.” Without another word, Henry stood up and walked to a nearby table. Soon he was joined by a little girl, whose hair he tousled as she sat down.

Eric joined him as well right then.

“You won’t believe it! Someone held my door closed and wouldn’t let me out! Didn’t anyone hear me shout?” Eric said, puffing out in anger.

James kept looking at the duo on the other table, and he nodded towards them. “I think that little girl and her friend over there might have had a role in it,” he said.

Gold turned to look, as indiscreet as ever. As soon as their eyes met, Henry dropped his gaze to his plate, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who is that?”

“He said he was some Henry… Malls, I think? Mills? Whatever, he said some crazy shit about having known me…” James blubbered as he unfolded the page.

He almost dropped it to the floor.

On it was yet another illustration of him wearing black, only this time it was a black tux, and facing him was a bride.

That same, graceful blonde woman who had been possessing his dreams for… as long as he could remember. He stayed there gaping at the illustration like an idiot.

“You okay?” Eric’s voice broke him out of his reverie.

“Uh… yeah,” he said, folding the paper and putting it in his inside pocket, wincing a little when it started soaking from the still wet cloth, then put it on the table, away from Eric’s reach.

“Are you sure? What’s that?”

“Nothing,” said James, waving it off and resting his chin on his hand, giving Henry a look. Henry was staring at him, again with that surprisingly hopeful look in his eyes.

The rest of the lunch ran smoothly, but James didn’t share the information about the picture. Eric knew about the blonde woman, but since he’d made that one-time joke about that dream being the reason behind James’ celibacy since Milah’s death, James avoided to tell him how _often_ he really saw that woman, and what she made him feel… whether he was asleep or awake.

Henry and the girl were still in the restaurant when the two men left to get back to their works.

It was still pouring down when James reached his apartment, once again soaking wet. As he stepped in, Roger ran to rub on James’ leg but retreated when his fur got wet… as did Amy and Kaylie.

He didn’t want to think about that page. It was extremely bizarre - that illustration was not perfect only on James’ side - again, apart from his hair and clothes - but also on that woman’s side. She was as beautiful and graceful as he’d been seeing her, same sunlight hair and same eyes, green as the sea.

He felt his stomach clutch at that. He hadn’t been out to sea since Milah died in that boat accident years ago. How could his dreams betray his love for her like that?

Eventually, he fell asleep holding the page in his hand, his three cats curled around him.

_”I know you don’t remember me but… I can make you.”_

James woke with a start. It was a dream. Just a dream, with him talking in a weird voice and accent but… just a dream. As he focused, he saw Roger and Amy looking at him in shock, while Kaylie had run off the room as if her life depended on it.

He looked again at the picture, and for the first time he noticed that in the place of his prosthetic hand he was wearing a silver hook.

“What the devil am I wearing?” he whispered to himself.

_“Why must Dark Ones dress like monks?”_

It was as if his own voice spoke on its own.

James froze. His breathing went fast again as he rolled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room. Roger ran to hunt it, kicked it for a few seconds and then let go, coming back to bed.

The next morning James was given a message by the receptionist in his office building. Henry Mills would be waiting for him in the nearby square when he finished off.

James sighed and actually contemplated going to meet him. It would be still daylight - and sunny - there would be too many people for him to kill him or kidnap him right there, and James was extremely curious to know how the page existed in the first place.

It could only be a sick joke from Eric, but James put it past him and besides, he never knew so many details about the woman.

At 4 pm, James walked to the square to find Henry kissing that same girl’s head as she ran off to the swings. He took a deep breath and walked up to him.

“Hi,” Henry said kindly. “I’m glad you got my message.”

“Did your daughter lock my friend inside the restroom yesterday?”

“Wow, you cut straight to the point. I thought you were a little less brave in this life,” Henry said boldly.

“This life?” James shook his head.

“Come on, I want to show you something,” Henry said and turned to a tree, picking up a long stick. ”Here, take it,” he told James, offering him the stick.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” He didn’t wonder for long, as Henry picked up another long stick and swung it in front of him.

“Play with me,” Henry said with a smile.

James looked around, starting to feel embarrassed. “Look, man…”

“Mate,” Henry said, keeping his stick up.

James simply stared at him. “I think you made a fool enough of yourself. Don’t pull me in-”

At that moment, Henry lunged at him so quickly James almost didn’t see him. Before he knew, his hand was flying up, effectively parrying his strike. James froze, looking at his own hand, gripping on the stick with unbelievable force.

“Nice move!” Henry said triumphantly, stepping back. “How long have you been swordfighting?”

“Swordf-... I’ve never… I…”

Before James could react further, Henry lunged again and tried to hit him, again and again. James parried every strike, taking careful steps behind, until he lunged forward himself and, holding the stick with both his hand and his prosthetic, he pushed Henry backwards, sending him to the ground. Henry laughed as James panted.

“I knew you could do it!” he exclaimed as he stood up.

James looked at his hand nervously. “How…”

“That’s what we call muscle memory,” said Henry.

_“Back in my world, that’s what we call muscle memory.”_

The feeling of her body pressed on his back, her hand guiding his and a real sword in his hand…

James took a step back, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. What was happening to him?

“Hey,” Henry said calmly, “I know it may be a lot to process. I understand. It has happened to me, too.”

“What? Being good at something you didn’t know you were?”

Henry nodded. “Pretty much. Though not as extremely obvious as that.”

“I’ve never even held a sword before in my life.”

“Oh, you have, trust me.”

James sighed. “ _Trust_ you? Why should I? You’ve been spying on me, you’ve had pictures of me drawn with a woman I’ve never met-”

“That woman,” Henry interrupted him, “do you know her?”

“No, of course not,” James said.

“Then why did you come and find me?” This time a small smile was pulling up the corner of his lips.

“Because… because... “ James usually found himself at a loss of words, and it always made him feel awkward. He blushed and took a few steps back, looking away from Henry.

“Because something inside you is telling you to trust me,” Henry said, his voice full of hope.

“‘Something inside me’?” James laughed nervously. “Have you been smoking anything, man?”

Henry sighed. “Mate,” he said again.

James sighed back. “What?”

“You once used the word mate.”

“Once? I was- you know what? Forget it,” James said exasperated and let go of the stick, walking away from Henry.

“Wait!” he called after him, but James didn’t stop. “I really need your help! And if you knew, you would help me!”

“Why should I help you?” James said, stopping as Henry pulled at his arm.

“Because our family is in danger.”

James’ eyebrows shot up. “ _Our_ family?” He stayed silent for a few moments, expecting some kind of answer from the man, but all he got was a nervous nod. “My family died years ago. That’s all there is.”

“I know. Your brother, your father… I don’t know much about your mother, but…”

“Wh- what? How do you know?” James’ voice was starting to shake.

“I don’t know much, and I’m pretty sure your memories are different… but I know they existed.” Henry walked to a nearby tree where a bag was resting and pulled out a big book from it. He opened it on a bookmarked page… to reveal a painting of him - James… and his brother.

_“Glory to the Jones Brothers.”_

His brother’s voice… who were those Jones?

James brought his hand up to cover his eyes. He was feeling dizzy, he… he hadn’t seen his brother’s face in ages. He’d died in a fire, all of their pictures destroyed, and he had been still a minor so there weren’t any pictures that Henry could have found…

“How… how did you…” His voice was small and uncertain.

“That picture _was_ there. This, _this_ is the truth,” Henry said, moving the picture towards him.

“It doesn’t… it can’t be…”

Henry closed the book and put it under his arm to reveal a small vial with a transparent liquid inside it.

“If you drink this, I promise, it will all make sense.”

“Drink that? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Look,” Henry said and opened the vial, drinking half of its contents. He swallowed it as if it were water, no sour face or any expression that would indicate that may be an obvious poison. “It’s not poisoned.”

James nodded. “Sure. How do I know you didn’t get an antidote beforehand?”

Henry offered the vial anyway. “I promise you I didn’t. But, if I wanted to kill you, you think I would have gone in so much trouble? I could have had Lucy over there throw it in your drink in the restaurant yesterday and get it done quickly.”

James hated to admit it, but it made sense. But what was he trying to achieve?

“I’m not some Neo, ‘mate’”, he said, putting emphasis on the word.

At that, Henry frowned. “Damn, you’re gonna be getting all the references now, aren’t you?”

James looked at him baffled.

“Nevermind,” said Henry, shaking his head. “Take it and, do with it whatever you want. You can throw it away - I’ll make another one if you do - keep it, or drink it.”

“What happens if I drink it?” James said nervously.

“You’ll get your memories back. All this… the swordplay, your brother, that blonde woman… it will all make sense. Oh, and I think you should have these. I went into a lot of trouble to get them back, so make sure you won’t lose them.” From his bag Henry produced a metal hook and a ring and gave them to James.

James took them with caution. At a closer look, the hook’s blunt end looked awfully similar to his prosthetic’s end when it was out of his brace.

“A hook? Is this some kind of a sick joke?”

“No. Didn’t you see the picture I gave you? You’re wearing that hook.”

That picture… from his supposed marriage to the woman of his literal dreams… he then examined the ring.

“Is that white gold?” James whispered. “Is that _my_ ring? Uh… my supposed ring?”

Henry shrugged. “Try it on for size.”

James did and, indeed, it fit perfectly on his right ring finger.

He kept staring at it, then looked absent-mindedly on the floor. “You say that…” he started, “that I’ve actually married this woman? And we have a family together and they’re in danger?” He looked back up at him.

Henry nodded. “And I need your help to save them. And you can only help me if you have your memories,” he said, pointing towards the vial.

“My memories…” James whispered. “And what about my current memories?”

Henry looked down, appearing concerned. “I should warn you about that, as well. Those memories, apart from the last six months, are not real. Whatever you remember that’s not so clear, or a too old memory, it’s all part of the curse that brought you here.”

“A curse,” James whispered incredulously.

Henry nodded, appearing a little tired. “And in your past life… things weren’t as… nice, let’s say, with some of the people you know.”

James’ mind immediately went to Eric. He was his only friend, so of course he would think first of him.

“What do you mean?”

“There were some people in your past life that… well, let’s say that they have been manipulated into… something else. Much like you were made to think you can’t fight…”

This couldn’t be Eric. If there was one thing James was sure of, it was that their friendship was true above all. For the others, he didn’t really care, except for his cats, of course, but how would anything manipulate their feelings…

But he thought about having a family on his own again, and what he couldn’t give to have it... Perhaps Eric could join them as well.

He found himself staring at the vial, the silence between him and Henry starting to get awkward.

“So, I’ll… I’ll leave you to it… We’ll be coming back here for the next days at 6 pm, in case you do take the potion at some point,” Henry said and started walking back towards the girl.

James stayed there for a while, checking in for any consequences from Henry drinking the potential poison, until Henry left with the girl, both gesturing at him from far away.

James kept looking at the vial.

If he really had a family out there…

And that Henry seemed really nice to him, maybe they were brothers-in-law or something... He hated how he craved for a little more company and yet did nothing about it, just kept being miserable, awkward and with a horrible fashion style. He remembered the black leather jacket he saw himself wearing in that picture and smiled. Perhaps he did have a chance, if those crazy theories were true…

_“I do know you’re impartial to men with leather jackets.”_

He heard his own voice, again, with a strange accent he couldn’t quite recognize. James shook his head. What the _hell_ was happening to him? Why was he hearing those voices?

He hung his head low and started taking deep breaths. Did that Henry’s presence trigger some insanity he didn’t know he had, or...

His phone ringing brought him out of his reverie.

“Hey, Eric.”

“Where the fuck are you?” Eric’s exasperated voice was heard. “We had an appointment to go to the movies twenty minutes ago!”

James spent the rest of their evening wondering how the hell he could tell his friend about everything that had happened to him, if it indeed was true.

When he was lying on his bed that night, he wondered why he even believed Henry. So he was some stalker who somehow found pictures of his brother, and happened to know that James had a natural talent for sword fighting, and also knew exactly how the woman who tortured his dreams looked like…

James took out the wedding ring from his pocket and examined it more closely. It really couldn’t be…

There was an inscription inside it, and James turned on the light, disturbing Roger as he did, in order to read it. It was just a name, Emma.

_”I don’t mean to upset you, Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”_

_“I love you, Emma Swan, no matter what you’ve done.”_

_“Emma Swan, what do you say? Will you marry me?”_

The ring fell from James’ hand as he was overtaken by the onslaught of voices, _his_ own voice, saying that name again and again. He heard himself sound angry, desperate, happy, sad… in love.

A tear rolled down his cheek.

No. Milah was his only love, and there was no-one before or after her. He wouldn’t- couldn’t let her go for a woman he only saw in his dreams, a woman who barely even existed…

That night he dreamt of her and him climbing a beanstalk together.

She occupied his mind for the whole day.

Emma Swan.

Every time he thought of her name, he felt his stomach flutter and his heart beat faster. Maybe he was indeed going crazy, and Henry was just a figment of his imagination…

That meant that the poison wouldn’t hurt him, since it didn’t even exist.

After he came home from work, he studied the vial for a while before calling Sheila, one of the nurses who’d asked him out after his appendectomy.

He smiled at the memory. Eric had stayed with him all night and cared for him so much that most of the nurses had thought they were dating until James had reassured them he was neither interested in men nor women anymore.

But he and Eric stayed in touch with Sheila after that. She was nice and living nearby, so it was easy to spend time together now and then.

“Hey, cutie,” her thin, girly voice was heard through the phone.

“Hi Sheila, how are you? Am I interrupting something?”

“No, I have a lunch break.”

“You’re in the hospital? Could you do me a favor?”

Sheila was incredulous at first, but eventually she wrote down the information James gave her about Henry, and agreed to help him find his “friend” who “probably” had had a poisoning.

That night he dreamt about being a lowly deckhand on some sort of pirate ship being amazed and charmed by his own Emma Swan.

The next morning he opened the vial and smelt it - nothing specifically weird in that. He even dared taste a drop - again nothing.

And he kept hearing his own voice - or what was probably Emma’s voice during the day. He just wanted to know what was going on.

Perhaps he would need to talk to Eric. He wouldn’t judge, he was sure about that.

At 5:30 pm, James knocked on Eric’s door, right next to his own.

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the train, man!”

_Mate_ , he remembered Henry had said. Luckily, he didn’t actually _hear_ it this time.

That’s when his phone rang.

“Hey, Sheila, what’s up?”

“Hey, so, I searched and, it was really weird, you know? Anyway, I did find one Henry, but he’s black, and a couple of John Doe’s but they’re above forty, and a few women, and a couple of toddlers… but no-one even matching your description. It’s a surprisingly low number for any kind of poisoning, I think your friend got lucky.”

“Did you check the morgues?”

“Yep, no-one matching your description, like,  _at all_. Do you want details?” she asked and James could hear the smile in her voice.

“Jesus, Sheila, no.” He felt appalled by the idea.

“However, if he was poisoned at the time you told me, he’s either dead somewhere or had taken a very powerful antidote right beforehand.”

“I see. Thank you, Sheila.”

“You’re welcome, cutie.”

James sighed. She would never stop calling him that.

He knocked again at Eric’s door.

Eric opened it immediately, wearing his bathrobe.

“You’re not ready? We’re gonna-”

“Miss the train, I know. I’m sorry, we’ll take the next one, okay?”

James sighed. “Whatever. Go get dressed.”

Eric ran to his room, and James stood in the living room and put his hand in his big pocket. The hook, ring and vial were still inside it. He’d tried to hold himself back from testing if the hook fit… but he was getting more and more anxious by the moment. He took the hook out and examined it again...

_“There’s the man I missed,”_ Emma’s sweet voice was heard.

James sighed. He just wanted it to be over.

He took off his prosthetic hand and let it rest on the coffee table, then immediately tried to put on the hook…

It fit so perfectly, James would swear the brace itself was made so that that hook would fit. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

_”Let’s talk about something I_ am _interested in, my hook.”_

Now he _saw_ Emma, looking down at him suspiciously.

It couldn’t be…

“I’ll be there in a moment!” Eric shouted from his room, but it was the last thing James cared about.

Fuck it. He took out the vial and opened it. He took two quick breaths, then without a second thought brought it to his lips and drank the liquid.

It tasted like water…. And the sea, and spices, and blood, and… cinnamon.

Killian opened his eyes only half a second later, but he already remembered everything.

Liam, Milah, Emma.

The Crocodile.

“There, I’m ready, shall we go?”

Killian lifted his head to look up at him. The same man, with a simple shirt and jeans and a thin stubble covering his jaw, but still the same man he’d spent centuries hating.

“Crocodile,” Killian whispered and lunged at him, pushing him down and falling right over him.

Rumpelstiltskin grunted as he fell.

“You monster! What did you do? Where is Emma?!” Killian screamed.

“What? Who’s Emma?” the coward said in his small, terrified voice.

“What did you do to us?! Where is she?!”

“James! What’s going on? What… what are you talking about?” Rumpelstiltskin said, voice low and worried.

Killian panted above him, hook trained at the monster’s neck… until he looked into his eyes.

It was the same look Eric had given him two months ago when Killian- James had collapsed from the pain after his appendix ruptured.

“Where is Emma?” Killian asked again.

“Who is Emma? I don’t know!” the other man said exasperatedly.

Killian looked at him. The Dark One wasn’t lying… and neither was Eric.

He’d have known. At any moment.

He felt his heart grow heavy. That same heart that monster had ripped out, that same heart he’d broken when he’d killed Milah…

Almost breathless, he stood up and ran outside. He heard Eric- Gold running towards him, but his pirate instinct kicked in, allowing him to hide away as the other man passed by him.

Killian slid down the wall.

It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up from an alternate personality, but… it was different, the previous time. He didn’t have-

_Bloody hell_ , he could actually _feel_ how much the James in him cared for that monster…

For Eric.

“James! Where are you?” he heard his desperate voice echo in the corridors.

Killian waited until the coast was clear and then ran outside.

He ran to the square, it was barely six but he hoped Henry would…

There he was.

“Henry!” he shouted. Gods above, he’d grown up. He was… what had happened? Why was Killian still the same age?

They ran to each other and hugged.

“You drank it? You drank the potion?”

“Yes, yes, I remember everything… What happened? Where is Emma? How did you grow up? How-”

“I can explain everything, I promise,” Henry said in a calm voice. Killian barely recognized the lad, but he saw the relief on his face over Killian recognizing him.

“Where is Emma?”

“It’s a long story, but she’s alive. I need your help to get her and my grandparents to safety.”

It was a long story indeed, and Killian would feel his determination to save his family flare up… if it weren’t for his conflicted emotions.

“You knew about Rumpelstiltskin,” Killian said in the end.

Henry nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I thought that I wouldn’t manage to convince you if I told you all the truth.”

Killian shook his head. “Henry, he’s… completely different. He’s… good. He’s been good, truly, for the past… how long has it been?”

“For you, six months,” Henry said.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispered. “We… he…”

“I know. I understand,” said Henry, touching Killian’s shoulder. Killian turned and looked at him - he still couldn’t believe he had grown up, he was really…

“I’ve been hating that man for centuries,” Killian confessed. “I wanted to kill him - I practically tried to kill him right after I got my memories back… but he’s… he’s not…”

Henry sighed, but didn’t say anything.

“He’s gonna come looking for me- for James. He won’t give up…”

“We’re gonna have to give him his memories back. I’m pretty convinced he had nothing to do with this.”

“Pretty convinced? Is that all you’ve got?” Killian mocked him, and Henry’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Henry,” he added, truthfully. “I didn’t mean that, but… it’s… that man destroyed my life. I set out to destroy his, and then we kept trying to kill each other… but now he’s just- there’s a part of me that wants him to be alright, and then I think of who he really is what we’ve done to each other…”

Henry stayed silent.

“Are you sure he had nothing to do with this?”

“If he did, I doubt he would be willing to put up with you all this time.”

"Fair point. I guess I’ll just have to deal with it on my own.”

“Hey,” Henry said, shaking his shoulder a little. “That man - he wasn’t you. You don’t have to accept this identity, you don’t have to be the way he was. And you don’t have to share his feelings for Gold.”

Killian closed his eyes and dropped his head, rubbing his forehead. “It’s complicated, Henry… I remember him being an amazing friend, being there exactly when I needed him… and I for him,” he choked at the last word, overcome by the reminder of their friendship and his disgust for it at the same time.

If he wanted to forget being James, he would have to forget Gold being Eric.

And he hated that it was taking his mind off of Emma. He needed to concentrate on finding her.

He let out a long sigh. “Shall we go?” he said.

“Do you think you can convince Gold to take the potion?”

“I’m sure he’s exceptionally worried for me right now, but he would drink a shot if I gave it to him.”

Henry nodded. “Then we should go. Are you sure you can do it?”

Killian shook his head. “I will do it.”

He asked Henry and Lucy - apparently the lad’s bloody daughter - to stay behind for most of the walk back. He needed to find a way to set his emotions straight. He _could_ play James’ role, but he didn’t know how much it would disgust him to look at the Crocodile’s face and act friendly.

On his way, he passed in front of a quaint shop with leather jackets on the window - and as if on a whim, he went in and bought the first black leather jacket he found fitting, not caring for the price and his low deposit. He took off the now abhorrent to him blue balloon of a coat he had been wearing,  gave it to the first homeless person he found and went on his way.

He took Henry and Lucy into his own apartment and asked them to stay there. He went outside, walking the small distance to Gold’s- Eric’s door, and took a few deep breaths before he knocked, feeling his heart and head burn.

And there he was. The Crocodile, the man Killian hated and the man James saw like a bloody brother appeared at the door, worry creasing his features.

“James! Are you okay?” Without any hesitation, Gold threw his arms around Killian’s shoulders. Killian squeezed his eyes shut and forced his arms to go around the other man’s body. He had just tried to kill him and there he was hugging him and worrying about him… and Killian hated all of it. The edge of his hook was barely touching the fabric of his shirt, and it would be so easy to just slash it in and kill him right there…

Go- Eric pulled away. “Tell me, my God, what happened to you? I’d seen you were a little distracted those past few days, but…” His voice was disgusting Killian. He was so worried and innocent and it almost made Killian go mad with how differently he actually saw that man.

“I hadn’t slept at all,” Killian started. “I was seeing things… I’m- I’m so…” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at this man’s face and apologize, even if it was fake.

“It’s okay. Come in. What did you see? Are you okay now? Do you need anything?”

Gods, he wanted to punch him.

“Where did you get that coat?” Eric said, looking at the leather coat.

“Pour us some whiskey, I can explain everything,” Killian said, trying to go back to his American accent.

Eric nodded and walked fast to the cabinet, took out two glasses and poured some whiskey in them.

“Go bring some ice,” Killian said at the last moment, realizing that Eric was shaking and was probably capable of drinking the whole bottle neat.

Eric nodded again and almost ran to the kitchen, doing everything so fast Killian barely managed to pour all the memory potion on Eric’s glass. He doubted that Eric would notice, however, with how he was shaking, dropping the ice cubes on the floor.

“Here, let me,” Killian offered, but before he managed to take any more cubes out, Eric took his glass and emptied it.

Killian stayed frozen, until Eric- Gold, finally moved, only to stagger behind and drop his glass, which shattered in small pieces around their feet.

Gold took a deep breath, then kept looking down for a moment before he raised his eyes to him.

“Pirate,” he whispered.

“Welcome back, Crocodile,” Killian said with a sneer.

At that, Gold extended his hand in a choking position, but froze for a moment when he realized he couldn’t use any magic.

“That’s not gonna work here. Now how about we talk-”

Gold groaned and lunged at Killian, pushing him to the wall. He raised his arm up to Killian’s neck, pushing hard enough to make him just gasp.

“What did you do to me? How did you do it?” Gold inquired, his voice back to the usual snake-like and calculated tenor he was familiar hating.

“You think… if it was me…” Killian choked, eventually pushing Gold back, who hit the cabinet and dropped to the floor, landing on the broken pieces of the glass. Killian coughed again, and added, almost shouting, “I would have chosen _this_?”

Gold raised his hand, examining the wounds from the glass. They were minor, but still Killian felt a wave of worry inside him. The fallen man still looked like the Eric his inner James loved.

It disgusted him.

At that moment, they heard someone knock the door.

“Hey! Are you alright?” came Henry’s frantic voice.

“Who the hell is that?” said Gold, trying to stand up.

Killian walked to the door, only answering as he opened it, “Your grandson.”

Henry entered, panic shown on his face. “Are you okay?! We heard noises and… Grandpa?”

Gold sneered at the word as he stood, evaluating the damage on his calf. Again, the glass pieces weren’t big enough to cut deep, or so Killian thought. Deep down he hoped they had.

“What happened?” Henry asked, looking at the cuts himself.

“What did you expect to happen?” Killian asked, suddenly feeling tired.

“I’ll be fine,” Gold said. “It’s just that thanks to the pirate over there, we’re gonna have to postpone fixing what happened, since I can’t heal myself here.”

Killian felt the weight on his shoulders - at least, part of it - disappear. There was the Rumpelstiltskin he knew and hated.

“I left my car nearby,” Henry offered. “Do you want some help?”

Gold shook his head, glaring at Killian as Henry and Lucy left the apartment. Killian simply smiled, even though he was still furious at everything and upset over his family’s fate, and turned to follow Henry when Gold spoke.

“Whatever happened… those past months…”

“I doubt it could tower over our centuries-long budding relationship. It’s not gonna change anything between us,” Killian said, almost hissing at him.

“Perfect,” Gold said, a small and bitter smile appearing on his face.

Perfect indeed.


End file.
